


Christmastime in the City

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants - Ann Brashares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-22
Updated: 2005-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1642928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tibby spends a picturesque day in Manhattan and prepares for a special vistor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmastime in the City

**Author's Note:**

> Written for thenewhope

 

 

This is a story about Tibby.

Once upon a time, Tibby had a group of friends who called themselves The Septembers. There were four of them, including Tibby, and they had all been born in September; their mothers had taken a pre-natal exercise class together, and become fast friends. Over time the mothers grew apart, life, husbands and children clamoring for their attention. But the four girls, the offspring, remained fast and true friends, and even though their own lives grew apart due to distance, time and age, their hearts never did.

They had their love to keep them together, and the Traveling Pants, a worn pair of jeans that fit every girl uniquely; they passed the Pants onto each other during times of faith and friendship, crisis and doubt, and with the Pants they made a circle of unbroken devotion. They passed the Pants back and forth year round now, as they had come to learn that life did not happen only during the summer.

Today it is Tibby's turn to receive the Pants.

Tibby is a junior at New York University, and a film major. Today she is going to spend her day indulging in her second love, photography. Tibby sees the world through a lens the way other people see the world through their hearts; a lens gives her insight, focus, wisdom. Understanding. Through the lens of a camcorder, or a film camera, Tibby sees a story; she watches the players and plot unfold, and with her filmmaking she can sculpt those things into three dimensions. Through the lens of a stop-motion camera Tibby sees a flash, a small piece of time. Movies capture a story and photos capture a moment, and both would be fleeting were it not for Tibby's watchful eye.

Her dorm room, or her side of it, anyway, is plastered with black and white photos she has taken and later developed, watching the pictures appear through the liquid as if by magic. Upon her wall are images. There are pictures of snow upon city streets; of Tibby's messy desk. There are shots of a stray dog and Tibby's friend Brian. Tibby's brother and sister appear in many photos; it seems to Tibby that their hands are sticky even on film. There is one of her parents together, looking amused at having been posed, though Tibby had not posed them at all. There is even one of Tibby's sneaker, and it is her favorite.

On the wall there are the Septembers: Lena looking beautiful and shy, her head cast down in most photos so that Tibby has caught her in profile. There are some pictures where she faces the camera head on, though Tibby remembers the coaxing required for those few shots; some were even captured when Lena was not aware of the camera. Those are the best, Lena all sparkling eyes and timeless mouth, her smile open and unselfconscious. Bee, on the other hand, is looking straight at the camera in almost all of her photos, her face bright and her body comfortable. There is only one photo, one Tibby took last summer when she and Bee visited Bee's grandmother, where Bee is not looking at the camera; she is sitting on the steps of her grandmother's house and looking upward. Tibby does not remember what caused Bee to look up, but the moment was captured forever, Bee's entire body looking as if it were reaching for the sky. Carmen is laughing in almost every picture, and looking pensive in all of the others; it seems sometimes to Tibby that for all of Carmen's hotheadedness, none of her temper shows in photos of her. The fire is there, that much is always obvious in her eyes, the quirk of her mouth, the wry lift of an eyebrow, but Tibby thinks that as much as Carmen dwells on her temper, it must come and go faster than the flash of Tibby's camera, because Tibby has never been able to capture it.

Today, as Tibby gets ready to take herself and her camera onto the streets of Manhattan, Tibby's roommate Susan stirs from underneath the pile of blankets and clothes on her bed.

"'s early, Tibby . . ." Susan mumbles, her pert nose emerging from underneath the covers.

"It's already almost ten o'clock," Tibby replies, wrapping her scarf around her neck once, twice.

"Still early," Susan maintains. "Your friend's bus won't be here until six."

"Places to go, people to see, pictures to take," Tibby says, picking up her messenger bag and swinging it over one shoulder.

Susan sighs and snorts, defeated.

"Do you want me to bring you anything?" Tibby asks.

Susan shakes her head. "I'll be here tonight, though. Can't wait to meet her."

Tibby smiles.

"And then I'll go over to John's to spend the night and give you some privacy."

Tibby smiles even wider. "Just for that, I'll bring you a muffin when I get back."

"Cranberry!" Susan calls as Tibby laughs, opening the door and leaving their room.

Tibby starts at the diner on the corner, with a breakfast special: waffles, orange juice, and coffee. She snaps a shot of her waitress, a woman named Martha, but Martha doesn't mind, since Tibby's been coming to the diner for two years, and she always leaves a nice tip. Tibby also gets pictures of the cook and the cashier when she thinks they aren't looking, but she isn't sure how the composition of them really turned out.

After the diner, and after she has snagged a muffin for Susan and tucked it safely in her bag, Tibby wanders up to the Strand, and goes inside. She loves the Strand, but it always smells funny to her, all of the old books. Very musty; she sneezes. She is in just to browse, because she can't pass by the Strand and not go in, but down in the basement, with the travel books, she finds a beautiful book on the Greek Islands with gorgeous pictures. Tibby tucks it under her arm for Lena and pays cash at the register; she has already bought Lena's Christmas present, but she can't pass the opportunity by and figures one more won't hurt.

A few more blocks and it's Union Square. It is a cold and cloudy December day, the sky the color of dirty snow. Tibby thinks, in fact, that there might be snow in the near future. She aims her camera toward the sky and takes a photo, not quite sure why; there aren't even buildings in the picture, just sky, and it will a monochromatic grey to everyone else, but it will be sky to her, and that's enough.

The holiday market is up in Union Square and crowded, even on the chilly day. Tibby puts her gloves on and wades into the crowd, focusing her lens on it and on the items for sale, from the handmade jewelry to the ceramic Christmas trees with the little bulbs for lights. She goes over to finger some hand knit scarves and gets into a conversation with the proprietor of the booth. Bee took up knitting last winter to keep her hands busy during classes (she never did have to take notes), and she spent all last winter break telling the other Septembers about it, so Tibby actually has a fairly good knowledge of fabrics and techniques. They discuss loops and yarn for a while, and then the woman asks Tibby where she gets her hair dyed (the electric blue streaks are still bright, since Tibby only redid them last week). When Tibby answers that she does it herself the woman is astonished, and then laughs, and Tibby tells her what brand of dye she uses. The woman is nice enough to let Tibby photograph her and her merchandise, and Tibby thinks she gets a good off-center shot of the woman, her neck elongated as she turns toward another customer.

A stop at one of the jewelry booths serves up Tibby's Christmas present to her mother, and Tibby finally wanders out of the holiday market and into a special Saturday farmer's market. Tibby doesn't buy any food, knowing that she will go home for winter break in a little less than a week, but she does stop and buy a cup of hot apple cider, letting it warm her as she sits down on a bench. While sitting, she alternates her cup and her camera in her hands, taking pictures of the passersby, and sometimes just of their dogs, their breath crystallizing in the air as their nails click on the concrete. When she is done with her cider she finds the nearest trash can and then exits the Square, stumbling over the flower salesmen as she goes. She takes photos of various flowers, her flash zipping light onto them, _pop_ , _pop_ , _pop_. She is using black and white film, as she often does, so she knows that the colors of the plants will not be visible in the final prints, but Tibby finds the idea, and the photos, much more intriguing that way.

For a moment, Tibby stops and tries to plot her way. She does not particularly want to walk up on the East Side; she will have to end up at Port Authority, over on Eighth Avenue, and that will be a long walk by the time the day is almost done. Fifth Avenue will be crowded with holiday shoppers, but she would like to see St. Patrick's, even if it is a bit out of her way, though Rockefeller Center is definitely going to be a spot on her itinerary, and that's out of her way, too. She finally decides to head toward Chelsea and wander that neighborhood; it's more interesting than the east side, and will give her access to both Fifth and Sixth Avenue relatively easily.

So Tibby walks over to Chelsea, dodging shoppers, tourists and natives alike. She stops at the children's book store Books of Wonder, thinking she might find something of value for her brother and sister. She does, buying them a book each, and she also stays for the author who is coming in to read and do a book signing. The author is a man in his forties, with salt and pepper hair and a bright smile. As he reads to the assembled children and parents, the children giggle in all the right places, and Tibby snaps picture after picture of their open-mouthed laughs and grinning, mesmerized faces. Some of the parents look at her askance, worried about this stranger with the blue hair taking pictures of their children, but the store management doesn't ask her to leave, and the author himself looks amused, letting her even take pictures of him as he reads and darts around acting out the story, crouching into the shape of the main character's tiger. Tibby laughs when he growls, as do most of the children, though she is sad to note that most of the parents do not. She photographs one mother and child combination, the boy laughing merrily while the mother looks on, her lips not even cracked in a smile.

After the reading, Tibby steps out onto the street, buying a hot dog and soda from a vendor for her lunch. She eats as she walks, making sure her feet take her to Krispy Kreme, where she purchases two donuts for dessert. She buys four more -- two for Susan and two for her visitor - before leaving, snapping a picture of the bell above the doorway that signals the arrival and departure of customers.

Tibby decides to walk all the way over to Fifth Avenue, though Sixth, and Rockefeller Center are closer; she can see St. Patrick's first, and then swing by Rockefeller on her way back. Her desire to see St. Patrick's is more artistic than religious; it is just a beautiful place, and Tibby feels true awe every time she goes there. It's a feeling she doesn't want to forget. She fights throngs of people on her way there, and once she reaches the church she is glad that she has come, for even though it will be crowded, it will also be peaceful.

Upon entering the church, Tibby knows she is right. There is no photography allowed in the church, but Tibby isn't here for that. She knows the real story is outside, among the masses of shoppers, the people taking a rest on the steps of the cathedral, and the homeless man security has yet to run off sleeping near the entrance.

Tibby follows her custom, dropping three dollars into the box and then lighting three candles: one for Bee, one for Carmen, and one for Lena. She stands there for a moment, watching the candles take light and flicker; she aches to take a photograph of them but does not, storing the sight into her memory instead.

Leaving the church, Tibby does photograph the man wrapped up in a thin, army green blanket on the steps.

At Rockefeller Center, Tibby manages to push her way to the front of the crowd watching the skaters on the ice rink. This sight is really the one Tibby has been waiting for all day, and she lifts her camera to her eye. She takes photo after photo after photo, of people of all ages, groups, and permutations. She has to stand on her toes in order to do so, and she is not above elbowing and jostling a bit for her position at the front. Tibby isn't interested in the massive Christmas tree; she is interested in the couple who are good skaters, skimming over the ice together hand in hand. She is interested in the teenage boy by himself, practicing small jumps and spins. She wants to know why that family isn't skating together, and while she knows they won't come up and tell her, she also knows the photos she takes of them will tell their story after she lets the film sit in the dark.

There is a little girl out on the ice, no more than three, for Tibby can recognize that age from her adventures with her siblings. She is wearing a puffy pink jacket with matching earmuffs, and she is there with her young father. He is skating around her, close enough to watch her and be there if he needs her, but far away enough that the child is more or less independent. The girl skates a few steps and then falls; skates a few steps and falls. She repeats this pattern again and again and again, and Tibby takes to documenting it: every step, every look of determination, every fall. The little girl never cries, never seems hurt, never asks for her dad. When she falls, she scrambles right up again, using her pink-mittened hands to help push herself back up, and she tries again, making slow but sure progress in her little section of the rink.

Tibby watches her and photographs her until darkness has begun to fall and her dad scoops her up with a hug and several kisses. The little one struggles to be let down again and her father obliges, setting her back on the ice, letting her hold his finger as they skate off together. The girl falls again but doesn't seem to mind, just picks herself up and keeps skating toward the edge.

Tibby captures those moments too, and thinks: _That is the kind of child I want if I ever have one: fearless._

It is dark now, and the crowd smaller as Tibby makes her way back through it, toward Times Square. Times Square is always a crowded, pushing nightmare, and this evening is no exception. People jostle each other on the streets, cold and hurried, while strangers stop to gawk at the bright lights and chain stores and restaurants. Tibby puts her camera in her bag so it won't be damaged; she is very nearly out of film anyway, and there is one more person she wants to photograph before the day is over.

She gets to Port Authority a little early, and finds the appropriate bus number. Tibby goes up the long escalators and finds the right staging area; she sits down on the ground in front of where the passengers will disembark the bus, pulling out a book for the wait. She is uncertain of how long she will have to wait; she is half an hour early, but the bus is likely to be late, as it is fighting Saturday traffic.

It turns out Tibby is right, and the bus is a full forty-five minutes late, though Tibby doesn't notice, not even looking up from her book until the first of the passengers make their way out of the arrival area, looking tired and disgruntled, carrying heavy bags. Tibby puts her book away and stands up, craning her neck for a glimpse of the girl she is waiting for. Tibby doesn't see her until it seems almost the entire bus load of people has emerged, but then she catches a glimpse of full black hair and a familiar blue duffle bag, and she can't stop her heart from speeding up.

Carmen finally emerges from the arrival area, and her eyes light up as they find Tibby immediately, though the area surrounding them still looks tired.

"Carmina!" Tibby exclaims, teasing, rushing forward a little, though she doesn't want this to seem like some scene from an old movie. Carmen only smiles and opens her arms, allowing Tibby to fold herself into them, burying her face in Carmen's thick hair.

When Tibby takes a deep breath Carmen laughs and says, "Did you just sniff my hair?"

Tibby laughs, too, stepping back from Carmen just enough to kiss her on the mouth. They are in public, even if this is New York City, and Carmen blushes a little, pink dusting her cheeks. "Your hair just always smells so good," Tibby says, distracting Carmen from her blush.

"It's just _Pantene_ , little dear one," Carmen says, laughing. "I'm sure they carry that even here in the Big City."

Tibby gives Carmen a bit of a squeeze before pulling away some more, and opening up her bag. "First things first: the exchange."

Carmen smiles and drops her duffle bag to the floor so she can open it. "Right. Good thinking, Tibby."

Tibby pulls out a Krispy Kreme bag at the same time Carmen pulls the Pants out from the top of her luggage. They solemnly pass the items to each other, Carmen opening the donut bag to take a good long sniff while Tibby cradles the Pants in her hands, brushing her fingertips along the patch she and Carmen sewed on together the summer after their freshman year of college. The traditional - and silly - heart embroidered with C + T=4EVA always manages to make Tibby laugh _and_ make her heart swell, and those are two of the best things about loving Carmen the way she does in the first place.

Carmen is still leaning into the Krispy Kreme bag, her nose obscured by the paper, when the flash goes off. Carmen looks up aghast to see the Pants tucked under Tibby's arm, and her camera in her hands.

"Tibby!" Carmen manages to sound horrified and scolding at the same time.

Tibby just laughs until Carmen does, too. "Don't worry. It's only for me." She gestures with the camera.

This time it's Carmen who leans in for a soft kiss. "It'd better be," she says as they part. Tibby smiles and looks down, and Carmen adds, "I'm starving. What's for dinner?"

"Pizza?" Tibby ventures, tucking both her camera and the Pants into her bag.

"From John's Pizzeria?"

"Is there any other place?"

Carmen shakes her head and laughs. "Not when I come to visit."

"Good. It's settled, then," Tibby says. Carmen picks up her bag and Tibby links Carmen's arm with hers.

They walk arm in arm out of the bus station, already chattering about the days ahead.

 


End file.
